


026 - Roadtrip w/ Van & Bondy

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “could you write ab a road trip w bondy? if you dont feel comfortable a road trip w van would be fine!!" //  Okay, hear me out… What about both of them?





	026 - Roadtrip w/ Van & Bondy

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not saying I spend a great deal of my time imagining what it would be like to be sandwiched between Van McCann and Johnny Bond, but I do spend a great deal of my time imagining what it would be like to be sandwiched between Van McCann and Johnny Bond.

The sound of Van giggling next to you was distracting, and it wasn't fair. "Shut the fuck up, McCann," you growled, and continued to stare Bondy straight in the eyes. You had bet real life money on this staring competition, and Van wasn't about to ruin it. Your eyes were watering. Bondy hadn't even flinched. You were not sure how you could win. You'd have to cheat. "Van, go get more shots," you ordered. Van slammed back the rest of the drink, and walked off to the bar. Obedient. The corners of Bondy's mouth were twisting up into a smug smile. "If you blink, I'll make it worth your while," you say slowly. Bondy raises an eyebrow. 

“What is worth more than money, Y/N,"

"I have what money cannot buy,"

"Go on," he said. It's hard to multitask between flirting and winning a staring comp. "If you're offering sex I'd like to establish money can buy that."

"Not with me," you said. Van was back quicker than you expected.

"Who is buying sex?" he asked.

"Y/N says if I forfeit this she'll fuck me,"

"I didn't say that,"

"You implied it," Bondy retorted. 

“Then forfeit," Van said like it was the obvious choice.

"Listen to your friend, Bond," you added. Bondy smiled politely, shook his head no, and maintained eye contact. Tears started to stream down your face and Van was giggling again. Someone dropped a glass, and you blinked in the flinch. Van and Bondy were on their feet cheering. "That doesn't count! That's totally not fair!" you whined. They sat back down. Van leaned in and kissed you on the cheek. You pushed him away and pouted.

"I accept cash only," Bondy said holding up a shot glass. You picked up another and clinked the glass against Van and Bondy's. You swallowed in one go and went back to pouting. "Awww, come on love, don't be like that," Bondy said in a patronising tone. You glared at him. He stood, stepped over the table between you, and knelt between your legs. He rested his arms on them and kissed the cheek Van had not. "Sulking isn't a good look," he said.

"I'd still sleep with you," Van said.

"We know, Van" Bondy replied for you. You smiled. "There we go!" He stood and took his seat again.

This is how it was with Van and Bondy. You hadn't ever slept with either of them, or dated them, but you'd go out together and get drunk and flirt. It was potentially dangerous, but you were all consenting adults. They'd always make sure you ended up in your own bed, and always said goodnight to your flatmate who hated them. She'd sit on the couch and watch them like a hawk as they'd disappear into your room with you, and re-emerge a few minutes later.

"Just tucking her in, Lisa," Van would say every time.

"Take it easy," from Bondy as a goodbye.

You never stopped to think what exactly you were doing with them, other than having a good time. That was the name of the game, after all. So, when they showed up on your doorstep on the first day of your two weeks off work you were excited. It was a little weird to see them in the early morning daylight, but they both smelt clean and both looked happy to see you. You cuddled into Bondy's side on your bed, enjoying the feeling of his velvet shirt. Van stood at the end of your bed.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked. You nodded. "Wanna guess?"

"Guess what? You literally just showed up and said 'something is happening' and gave no more information," you replied.

"We have a surprise for you," Van clarified.

"No, I don’t want to guess," you said.

"You really hate fun, don't you?" Bondy chuckled. "Pack it in, Van, she's not in. She hates fun." You wriggled around and made a noise that didn't really mean anything but still managed to communicate your emotions.

"We're going on a road trip. We got this cool van that has a mattress in the back and-" Van talked quickly. It was almost the happiest you'd ever seen him.

"I'm going to stop you right there, McCann. Is the assumption that I will sleep in the back of a van with both of you?" you asked. Van nodded happily. Bondy quietly chuckled again.

"So we can sleep there and in cheap hotels and go to lame tourist stuff and eat diner burgers. It's gonna be class," he finished. There were a few beats of silence while they waited for you to react.

"That's such a weird fucking idea," you concluded. Van grinned. He was standing in the beam of sunlight let in by the bedroom window. He'd washed his hair, and the different shades of brown were pretty. He was pretty. He walked to you and grabbed your ankles. He pulled you to the end of the bed. He kneeled on the carpet, and you sat up in front of him and draped your arms over his shoulders.

"You're in?" he confirmed. You dramatically rolled your head and looked back at Bondy. He shrugged at you. He knew you would say yes the moment the idea came into conception. You looked back at Van and his expecting face. You nodded. "Heyyyyyy!" he cheered, and picked you up. You squealed and clung to him like a koala while he twirled you around the room.

…

The front seat of the van was a bench, so technically all three of you could have sat there. However, Van opted to be in the back on the mattress. You told him that it was a bad idea because a) it was illegal and b) it was dangerous.

"Don’t tell Bondy you said that. He'll call you the Fun Police again," he replied. On cue Bondy jumped into the driver's seat.

"What joy you crushin’ now?"

"I'm not! I just said he isn't safe back there," you replied. Bondy looked other the seat at Van.

"Woulda thought you'd take any chance to be close to her," Bondy said to Van. Van considered it for a moment, and nodded like he had just been told a very important secret. He climbed into the front, pushing you into the middle.

"No, this is worse. Go back," you said, squished between them.

"I think it's perfect," Bondy said. He definitely had said that to Van to create this situation.

"Mint, innit? Let's go!"

Eventually you found a comfortable position, with your legs up in Van's lap, and leaning against Bondy. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulder most of the time. Van questioned how you didn't consider that arrangement to be dangerous. You argued the use of the seatbelt was critical. He shook his head and smiled at you. Hours passed with few stops between. There were record and junk stores that were good, and the diner you stopped at for lunch was unironically very 80s. It started to get dark when you pulled into a motel.

The room was unironically very 90s and you were concerned that would be the theme of the trip. There were two double beds in the room, and you bit your lower lip when you thought about how that would work out. You sat at Van's feet and watched him roll a joint. You always liked his face, but his concentrating face was one of the best. So serious. His eyes flicked up to yours as he licked along the paper. You tried not to smile but it was automatic and involuntarily. He handed the joint to you first.

When you were all suitably high, you followed Van and Bondy out the door. You walked down the street to look for the maze made of hedges that the woman in reception told you about. When you found it, it was a lot bigger than you had imagined. There were four different entrances. You each took one.

"Is this a competition?" you asked.

"Why is everything a competition?" Bondy asked back.

"I like winning. And prizes,"

"First to the middle decides who sleeps where. Last to the middle pays for dinner," Van suggested, clearly sure in his ability to navigate the maze while high as fuck. You and Bondy nodded. Then, you were off.

Van and Bondy yelled Marco-Polo at each other for a while, then they both went quiet. You had no concept of time, nor space or reality if you were honest. You stopped and sat down for a bit and made a flower crown out of the weeds and wildflowers. You stood up when you heard Van yelling your name.

"What!?" you yelled back.

"Where are you!?"

"With the flowers!"

It took Bondy and Van fifteen minutes to find you, and in that time you'd made them both crowns too.

As you walk to the main street of the small town, you took another hit. Dope had always had a more profound effect on you compared to them. And, they’d always loved that about you. The pizza for dinner was good, and despite coming last in the maze (if you can count abandoning the maze in place of nature crafting as coming last) you did not pay for it. Bondy gave you a piggyback to the motel.

He dropped you onto a bed, and you landed on your back. You felt a little more coherent now, the food doing you good. Van climbed on top of you, straddling your hips. You held your hands up and he took them, leaning his weight onto your arms.

“Drinking game?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Our choices are… many tiny, tiny bottles of brands I do not recognize,” Bondy announced, leaning into the mini fridge under the cheap hotel desk. He scooped them all up into his arms and dropped them onto the bed near you. He sat against the headboard with his legs out.

“What’s the game?” Van asked.

“Never Have I Ever,” you decided. The both laughed.

“What, we sixteen?” from Bondy. You pouted, and therefore they complied.

It was a fair game because you had done less than them, so you drank less, but due to you being smaller in size the alcohol you did consume affected you more quickly. It wasn’t long before you were filling the bath with warm water and looking for bubble bath. Bondy was sitting in the same place on the bed flicking through television channels, and Van was leaning in the doorway watching you.

“There’s only shower gel,” you told him, upset.

“So?”

“So, I want bubbles!” Obviously. You stood up and looked at him like he could fix it, but he couldn’t. He shrugged.

“You’re going to have a bath? Now?” he asked. You nodded. Obviously.

The shower gel was sufficient, and there were bubbles. You pushed Van into the bedroom, and closed the door. You stripped and got in, giggling to yourself with drunk happiness. Then you called, “Please can someone open the door now!”

There was laughter, then Bondy was there. You’d covered yourself with bubbles.

“Whatdayawant?” he asked, his words coming out as one. Van joined him at the door and smiled.

“Why are you being mean?” you directed at Bondy.

“Yeah, Bond. Why are you being mean?” Van added. He moved to kneel next to the bath. You blew a handful of bubbles at him and he smiled. He put his hands in the water and swished around. He wasn’t touching you, he wasn’t even close to touching you, but it felt like he was.

Bondy reappeared in the doorway and you hadn’t noticed that he’d even left. He handed over a glass with ice and water. You drank it in one go and handed the glass back. You leant out of the bath a little to do so, which means for a moment you were a glorious bubbly mermaid. Chest exposed, shimmering with water. A mystery below the belly button. Untouchable. Mythical. Van crossed his arms over the edge of the bath and rested his head on them, shaken. All you got from Bondy was a smirk and a stare. When you settled back under the bubbles you were satisfied. 

You splashed around for a while, purposefully driving both of them crazy. It was easy to see in Van. He stayed in the bathroom watching you and making you laugh with stories, and singing you little songs. Bondy was watching too, but pretended he wasn't. He'd conceal a laugh whenever Van said something funny, and if the water made too much noise, he'd glance over so not to miss anything. By the time you kicked Van out the bathroom again, dried off, put on clean underwear and re-entered the room wrapped in a towel, both of them looked like they were in physical pain.

You kneeled in front of the bags and started to pull out clothing. Not your own, of course, but the boys'. You found a clean white button up that belonged to Bondy. You let the towel fall, and you put the shirt on. Your back was to them, and when you stood up and turned around they were both starring at you. 

"I forgot pyjamas," you said and climbed under the covers of one of the beds. "Who got to the centre of the maze first?" They looked at each other. Van started shaking his head.

"Don't you dare make me sleep with her, mate, please," he started to beg.

"You're good, McCann. You've got this," Bondy said, stripping down to underwear and getting into the other bed. You turned on your side and looked at him.

"I'm confused," you said, lying. You knew exactly why sleeping next to you after the one girl naked mermaid show was going to be torture. Van looked helpless, then resigned to his fate and crawled into bed. He tried to keep his distance, but you squirmed your way into his personal space.

The lights went out and you talked for a while longer. You fell asleep quicker than you meant to, but probably just in time.

…

The next day rolled on the same, and you drove along the coast. The waves were loud and you swapped places with Van so you could lean out the window and let your hand dance in the force of the wind. The air smelt like salt, and you felt clean and good.

"Can we sleep along here?" you asked.

When the sky turned pink with dusk, Bondy reversed the van into a park in an empty lot. The doors at the back were left opened and you squeezed in between Van and Bondy. The air was cold so the blankets and body warmth were perfect. Dope was passed around and you watched the waves roll into the incoming darkness of the night.

You were facing Van, with Bondy curled into your back. His arm was around your waist and you could feel his breath on your neck. Van's eyelashes were wet with the tears from laughing. The fairy lights one of them had duct taped to the roof were casting a warm orange glow over everything.

"I love you. You know that, right?" Van whispered, suddenly very serious.

"I know," you replied.

"Like, I really, really love you. And he does too," Van said. Bondy made the smallest of nodding movements.

"Yeah. I know. I love you both too."

Van leaned in then. Your noses were touching and you could feel a nervousness in you that was new. His lips brushed against yours; he was asking permission. You kissed him, and he kissed you back. You had spent a lot of time wondering what it would be like if you did kiss either of them. You never would have guessed it would be so gentle and so sweet. But despite all the talk and show, that is what Van would always be. Bondy stirred and when you needed air and stopped kissing Van, Bondy quickly took his place. Bondy kissed with more fire and hunger. They both came from a place of love, but it was becoming quite apparent that the type and intensity of love were different.

There was a moment between being undressed and the kissing and the touching where you questioned the consequences of the actions. You questioned if the morning would bring awkward conversation and regret all round. You were willing to take your chances, though, and you let whatever was happening happen.

…

When the sound of a squawking bird woke you up, you were under the blankets alone. You sat up and was relieved to find Bondy sitting on the edge of the mattress, legs hanging off the side of the van. You sat next to him. He looked at you and smiled.

"Sleep well?" he asked. You nodded.

"You?"

"Really good, actually." Then there was a pause. "Feeling alright?" You knew what he meant.

"Yeah, I think. Yeah. I'm good. Are you… good?"

Bondy nodded, then pointed to something. You followed the direction. Van was sitting on the sand by himself close to the water. You looked back to Bondy.

"He's been there for a while. I think… I don't know. I think you broke him a little bit," he said. "You should go talk to him."

You nodded and slid out the van. The sand was cold and uneven, and you awkwardly padded your way down the beach. You sat down next to Van with little grace. He looked over at you with some interest, but he mostly looked sad.

"What's wrong?" you asked, pushing hair out of his face and behind his ear. He didn't answer for a moment. He looked at you carefully, eyebrows pulled in close together. He looked back out over the ocean.

"I don't think I can do this," he told you. You were about to ask what it was he couldn't do, but you knew the answer. Making him say it out loud would be an exercise in emotional abuse. He couldn't do the flirting. He couldn't do the pretending. He definitely couldn't do the sharing. At least, not anymore.

"Yeah. I know." You looked for the right words, but that really depended on how you felt, and you didn't know. There had never been time between the drinking and jokes and the music and the late night walk homes to think about feelings. You tried to quickly come to a conclusion. Bondy was easy. You loved the guy, but you weren't in love or anything close to. You knew he felt the same. Van. You didn't know. "What do you want to happen now?" you asked him. He licked his lips nervously.

"I don't even know, Y/N. Maybe we just… I don't know. I don’t know who we are separate to all of this."

"Then we find out?" you suggested. You stood up and held a hand out to him, like you were going to shake hands. "Hi. I'm Y/N. I was wondering if you maybe wanted to get a coffee with me sometime?"

Van's face lit up with relief and he took your hand and shook it. "Yeah, that would be class." 

…

The road trip continued, and the flirting did not stop. The drinking did not stop. The kissing didn't stop either. The sex did stop, and the promise of future dates were made. The boundaries were adjusted and you all knew where you stood. It felt better than before, if you were honest. Your role in their lives was a more tangible idea. Your importance to Van became a thing you could acknowledge outside of the context of a joke. It felt good and right.

As you drove down the highway sitting on the speed limit, you played rock-paper-scissors with Bondy to pick the next song. Van drove with one arm on the wheel and the other on your thigh. You took his sunglasses off and wore them along with Bondy's stupid hat. You'd never felt more at home.


End file.
